Chapter Nine

Thanks to my beta, AmyLouise, and the credit goes to JKR, WB, and Scholastic.

Chapter Nine

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Ron woke up Monday morning completely bewildered. Where the fuck was he, anyway? Oh, yeah. After a few seconds, the previous day came back in an ugly rush. Having Harry present while he told the rest of his family the big news had been the only reason he survived until noon.

Fleur had stood and left the room, crying. He knew she and Hermione got on well, but he wasn't expecting the dramatic "girl" display. Bill proceeded to give Ron a look he never wanted to see again, and then he followed his wife. Charlie and George were the ones to pick up the yelling where his mum had left off, and Ginny jumped right in. Harry just kept saying things like, "But...," "I understand your feelings...," "Let's all just calm down," or "Ginny, no hitting!"

It was a nightmare, but by lunchtime, everyone had thrown whatever darts they could throw. When his mum and dad came back downstairs, it was agreed that Ron would stay at the Burrow until things were sorted out. His mum made it quite clear that he would be actively seeking employment as of this morning, and his dad mumbled something about maybe being able to patch things with Hermione. No pressure. He guessed he should be grateful he had a place to go, even if the terms were irksome.

He eased up slowly from his bed, putting his feet on the floor and cradling his head in his hands. He would have lain right back down, really, but his stomach was rumbling and his mum was probably already on the "low growl" setting. If he didn't get off his ass and start looking for a job today, she would hit "lethal roar" by evening and possibly attempt to skin him with her potato peeler.

He trudged into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and hit the toilet. It was going to be a long day.

XXXXX

Mr. Parkinson had left for the office early, as he did every day. A home with Pansy was no sanctuary, and the hours between his late dinner and early coffee were plenty enough for him. It wasn't as if he didn't love his daughter. He just didn't like her.

Between her spoiled demands and angry tantrums, he had always anxiously awaited her return to Hogwarts each fall. After thinking his reprieve was over, he had been absolutely overjoyed about her engagement to Draco and the fact that she would be moving out permanently. He should have known he couldn't be that lucky.

Thomas had just gotten rolling on a new account when he looked up to find Ronald Weasley entering his reception area. That was certainly a shock, but not as surprising as overhearing him tell the receptionist, Wendy, that he wanted to "see Mr. Parkinson, please."

Well, isn't this curious? When Wendy came through his door to ask if he could see a client, Thomas immediately acquiesced. He had to know what in the world would bring the likes of Weasley into his domain.

"Hello, sir," Ron stated, walking into the office and extending his hand. "I appreciate your willingness to see me without prior notice."

"Of course, Mr. Weasley. I don't mind in the slightest. Please have a seat here." He gave a sarcastic smile, motioning to a rich brown leather chair which was probably worth three Burrows by itself.

Ron sat stiffly, knowing that he was about to humiliate himself. He tried to look confident as he faced this tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and nearly black eyes. His hands looked like they could crush a cat in one swift move. Not intimidating at all.

Noticing and slightly enjoying Ronald's discomfort, Thomas asked, "Would you like a brandy, Weasley? Wendy, get this lad a brandy."

"Oh, uh, thanks...thank you. I could probably use a drink about now." Ron chuckled nervously, immediately realizing he probably shouldn't say that to a prospective employer.

"So, out with it. What brings you into my realm today?"

"Well," Ron stammered, "I am actually looking for a position."

"A position? As in, a job?"

Ron's insides began to squirm, thinking of the entertaining story this would be at Mr. Parkinson's next big bash. "Yes, sir."

Thomas couldn't help revealing a condescending smile, but he didn't want to dismiss Ronald straight away. He must actually have his own set of balls after all, entering the business of a known supporter of the Dark Lord. He kept the smile in place, remembering an old saying about keeping friends close and enemies closer. Whatever this boy wanted to do, it might be wise to let him do it, at least for a while. Not only would it inflate his shady reputation, but the gutsy kid might actually make him some money on the side. Brothers and Brooms had lost quite a few clients after the war.

"What is it that you do, Ronald?"

Ron's mind nearly went completely blank. Those black eyes were an unreadable abyss, and Ron had no idea if Mr. Parkinson was just toying with his little mouse before eating him or actually giving his employment serious consideration.

Gathering himself together as best he could, Ron managed, "Well, uh, Mr. Parkinson, my experience is in sales. I helped my brother, George, oversee Weasley's Wizard Wheezes after finishing at Hogwarts. We were the only shop in Diagon Alley which was making a profit there for a while."

Yes, Thomas knew that shop well. It was the only place which seemed to ignore the presence of the Death Eaters during the war, and he had been quite offended by the disrespect to the Dark Lord, even if he never offered his own full allegiance.

When an awkward silence prevailed, Ron went on. "I believe that a sales position in any company would highlight my skills, and I happen to know quite a bit about your brooms since I played Quidditch for Gryffindor. I believe I can help earn a profit for Brothers and Brooms, and I think I would especially enjoy making sales with professional Quidditch teams."

Thomas pretended to think about this, rubbing his chin and giving the impression of a probable refusal. He had been thinking of expanding into professional Quidditch, oddly enough, so there was no reason to feign deep contemplation. He just enjoyed intimidating people. He quickly realized, though, that if Weasley felt welcomed, he would drop his guard and be more likely to reconstruct the reputation of the Parkinson family and Brothers and Brooms.

"Ronald, it so happens that Brothers and Brooms is designing a position which would be in sales, working the European region to market professional Quidditch brooms. I have not yet posted the position in the Prophet, but I intended to offer a salary of 15,000 Galleons per year plus a commission of 10%. If you accept the job, you save me an immense amount of time and effort, so I am prepared to make an official offer here and now."

Oh. My. Gods. Fifteen thousand galleons. This could not possibly be happening. After walking into about every business in the wizarding world and talking to owners or filling out applications, Ron had honestly only come in here so that he could tell his mother he had searched every possible place of employment. He never even expected to be admitted.

Sure, Mr. Parkinson was supposedly reformed and had never become a Death Eater, but who was he kidding? Just from listening to Pansy talk in class, he knew this man hated wizards who associated with Muggleborns. Weasleys were notorious for their Muggleborn loyalty, so this whole meeting made no sense.

Can I seriously work for this guy? Will my mom be more pissed about my refusing an opportunity or my working for a Parkinson? Good gods, he had no idea. He had to admit that selling brooms to Quidditch teams and earning such a salary was a dream for most young wizards, even if he had to work for the scariest-looking man aside from Voldemort. He could always quit if things went awry...

"Sir, I will gladly accept the position. When do you wish for me to start?"

"How about right now? Hard-working employees are eager starters, yes?" He hid his grin, knowing that any other wizard would give a new employee at least a week to prepare. However, Parkinson firmly believed in maintaining strict control, even if he planned to go easy on the Weasel.